Until Next Time, Sir
by Alwinfy
Summary: Thirty years later, Roger meets a mysterious boy whose appearance could only be described by fate. One-shot, OC.


It was the coldest, darkest winter Roger A. Wingarde had ever beheld in Boston, Massachusetts. On New Year's Eve, he shivered in his sweatshirt and trudged home through the snow toward his apartment building. He pondered how far he had come since he had left Mrs. Luella Bates Washington Jones's house, thirty years ago. After Roger purchased those blue suede shoes, he had decided to walk down a different path of life, and get a job. He had gone from a janitor to flipping burgers to a waiter, and so on. Now, as a cook, the pay was decent, though Roger could never forget those days when he had to resort to thievery to sustain himself.

He just passed an alleyway when a bony hand grasped at Roger's pocket. As Roger tackled the hand's owner, he or she made contact with his wallet, and tried to escape with it. The boy the hand belonged to was obviously not expecting the tackle, so they both fell to the street. They grappled for the wallet for a couple of seconds, before Roger wrenched the wallet from the boy's hands. Breathing heavily, the boy, now empty-handed and bruised, attempted to run away as fast as he could, but Roger grabbed the boy by his ear, and held him still.

"What is your name, young man?"

The boy looked around warily, but finally: "J- Johnny."

Roger fully intended to toss him in the alley and be done with him, but then he got his first good look at the shivering, snow-laden figure. He was about twelve or thirteen, clad in just torn jeans and a shirt that might as well been a dirty cleaning rag, and his body looked like a skeleton with skin. Suddenly, Roger saw in his mind when Mrs. Jones first saw him. He must have looked the exact same way to her. Roger remembered those words: _You ought to be my son. I would teach you right from wrong. _He decided not to throw Johnny into the alley, but to give Johnny what Mrs. Jones had given to him, so long ago. He said, "When I get through with you, sir, you are going to remember Roger A. Wingarde."

Johnny started to struggle against him, but using the boy's ear, Roger dragged him into the apartment building, up two flights of stairs, unlocked his apartment door. Johnny got dragged into the living room, where Roger finally released the ear.

"Now, Johnny, go bandage yourself up. There's some gauze and adhesive on the shelf next to you," Roger said as he tossed his wallet on the couch. "Are you hungry?"

"Nah," replied Johnny, as he sat and wrapped his knee in gauze. "Well, a bit."

"All righty then, I'll fix something up to eat. But why did you try to snatch my wallet?"

Johnny looked at him rather warily, then said, "Ain't nobody got time for me at the house. I gotta live on mah own."

"Well, you don't have to steal. You could ask."

"Sir?"

Johnny stared at Roger. Roger smiled inside as he remembered how he had stood like that, thirty years ago. He said, "Well, I'm going to make some spaghetti," remembering how Mrs. Jones made dinner too, and wishing to do the same for Johnny. "Go wash your hands."

Roger walked into the kitchen in the next room, and as he grabbed the linguine pasta and the sauce, he heard a shuffling noise. He casually turned around to grab the meatballs from the freezer, and he saw Johnny shuffling back from the bathroom. He sat on the side of the couch where Roger could see him easily, if he chose to. Roger smiled inside again. About fifteen minutes later, the table was set. Over dinner, Roger described all the waiters and waitresses in his life, how he had to rush and prepare many meals at once, and the general feeling of chaos every lunch and dinner hour. However, Roger avoided asking any questions of Johnny. This seemed to put him at ease.

After the meal ended, Roger handed Johnny a twenty-dollar bill and walked him to the door. "This should keep you alive for a while. In the meantime, try looking for a job. And you are welcome to drop by anytime to say hello," he said. Johnny stepped outside and turned. "Until next time, sir."

"Until next time, then." Roger shut the door, and grinned. _Thank you, ma'am,_ he thought. _For everything._


End file.
